


A Lady Strikes Out

by sultrybutdamaged



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Magicians AU Theme Week, Prequel to Fics As Yet Unwritten, Sexy Vigilantes, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 13:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrybutdamaged/pseuds/sultrybutdamaged
Summary: Julia's first outing as a hero doesn't go according to plan.





	1. The Hero

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a much longer fic, but I wanted to get something in on time for Magicians AU week, so here's a little prequel to a story I haven't written yet.
> 
> Major thanks for the brainstorming session to Tori, Meg and especially Ashley, who came up with Quentin's perfect power.
> 
> Beta by [thoughtsappear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsappear/pseuds/thoughtsappear)

The robbery at the City National Bank branch near Columbia University began at 2:51 pm on a Tuesday afternoon in October. It was one of those fall days when for just a few hours, the scent of summer seemed to creep back into the air, and New Yorkers of all stripes had responded by digging out their shorts, going jogging, finding the few restaurants that still had outdoor seating for a late lunch, and generally cluttering up the streets with foot traffic. In such an environment, two men and a woman wearing ski masks and gloves as they headed for the ATM entrance to the bank might have been noticeable, but, well, it was New York. You saw all kinds of things here, and it was best not to pay too much attention.

That the two men and a woman, obviously dressed to hide their identities, pulled out their guns before they had even entered the bank, and began waving them around right in front of the glass windows facing the street, did draw a little attention. A few pedestrians, probably tourists, thought about calling the police, but their fellow onlookers immediately discouraged them. It was New York _and_ a bank, and if you left the police out of it for long enough, you might get a more interesting kind of help.

By 2:55, the robbers had instructed everyone inside the bank’s lobby to pass over their wallets and cell phones, and to line up sitting by the far wall. A few businessmen grumbled about missed meetings, and one student asked if she could get a note for missing class, but for the most part, the bank patrons were used to this sort of thing and they complied without a fuss.

By 2:57, the larger of the male robbers had subdued Todd, one of the bank’s two tellers and the only employee who _was_ inclined to make a fuss. The robber didn’t have to resort to his gun; a single punch took care of Todd, who was brave but, it turned out, not much of a fighter. Once he was down, the rest of his co-workers happily gave up the fight, and assistant manager Colleen Wilby led the shorter male robber down to the safe in the basement to retrieve the bank’s cash supply while his cohorts kept an eye out above. Colleen, a thirty-year veteran of banking, and bank robberies, was calm, and maybe even dragged her feet a little. The longer the robbery went on, the more hazard pay she would get, but maybe she, too, was hoping help would show up. There were few people in Justice Quest’s New York more cynical than a bank manager, but Colleen was a bit of a dreamer.

By 3:00, the safe was open, the female robber had called for a getaway Uber, and no one gawking on the street outside had yet to dial 911.

At 3:01, help arrived anyway.

*****

Julia was passing City National on her way to her Introduction to the Theory of Numbers class when the commotion broke out. It was the crowd gathered in front of the bank that caught her attention first, and then, as she got closer and caught a glimpse of movement beyond the building’s glass-front, she heard the murmurs of “bank robbers” and “guns” and “wait for the heroes.” She paused on the street, looking around, adrenaline surging as she thought _maybe_…

On the one hand, she didn’t really want to miss class. Professor Van Der Weghe said she was one of his most promising students; he had practically cried when she told him she was majoring in pre-law and not mathematics because she wanted to do something helpful with her life. As a life-long type-A student, Julia hated both the thought of disappointing a professor and the idea of an unexcused absence on her record. Especially when she’d done her studying and knew she’d have a chance to show off.

On the other hand, there were guns. Someone could get hurt. Julia was in a unique position to stop that.

A bank robbery in broad daylight was unlikely to attract established heroes like the city’s official hero team, Justice Quest, who rarely came down from their tower at the center of the city for street-level crime like this. Julia tilted her head back for a look, but there was no sign of any brightly-dressed figure descending by flight or zip line or high-tech dirigible. Justice Quest fought terrorists and aliens and interdimensional horrors. Regular crime belonged to the vigilantes, who did care about this kind of thing, but they were strictly after-dark, since their activities were technically illegal, and both cops and heroes got after them if they went too public.

On the other hand, there were the unofficial heroes, the kind who wore costumes and cooperated politely with the authorities, and who were given a pass as long as they followed the rulebook set out by the Hero Commission. Julia knew that rulebook front-to-back; she’d memorized it with Quentin when they were twelve, lying under the table they’d painted with images of their favorite heroes, dreaming of someday fighting supervillains.

And now, going down right in front of her, was an actual bank robbery. Nothing established a hero’s name like stopping a bank robbery.

Theory of Numbers was an elective, anyway.

She took a last look at the bank, then darted around the corner into an alley, digging through her bag with one hand for the lump of slippery spandex at the bottom. Sending a brief thought of thanks towards Q for convincing her to pack her costume whenever she left the house, she looked around for a place to change, finally picking out a spot just behind a dumpster. Praying that no one would take a short-cut through this alley, she changed quickly, fumbling only a little when she had to dig out her new boots, with their soft, foldable sides and rubber soles for extra gripping power. She pulled back her hair, slipped on her mask, then wasted a few seconds looking for a place to hide her bag before tucking it behind the dumpster. Then she made her way back to the edge of the alley and peeked out. The crowd was still in place before the bank. Their numbers had doubled.

“Wish I had a fancy zip line to swing in on,” she muttered, but she hadn’t figured out where you bought those kinds of things yet, or how you trained to use them. She thought about calling Q to let him know what was going on, but after casting a last look back at her bag and the cellphone tucked in a side pocket, she pushed that idea aside. If everything went well, he’d see it on the news.

If it didn’t go well, and he tried to come down here…Julia thought of the guns, and shuddered.

Better if he just found out about the whole thing later.

She pushed aside thoughts of her best friend and squared her shoulders. “Hero time,” she murmured, and raced out onto the street.

*****

“I don’t think I recognize that one,” said Mark Jorgensen, squinting from the window of the bank to the pamphlet in his hand. The crowd was still growing on the street outside the bank, but Mark and his wife, Wanda, had reached the front of the line early and they’d held their spots. They were on a week’s vacation from their home in Idaho, and this was the main reason they’d chosen New York.

“You barely saw her,” Wanda chided. She was annoyed because the young, spandex-clad woman had kicked her in the shin and snapped _superhero here, move! _as she pushed her way into the bank. “I think it was that pre-cog girl, what’s her name? She always comes across a little rude.”

“Foresight. Margo Hanson,” Mark said, reading from the pamphlet. It had been issued by the city and was very comprehensive on the subject of the officially-registered heroes, though a bit weaker when it came to the come-and-go unofficial ones. “But I don’t think that’s her. Says here her costume is purple.”

“That costume looked purple.”

“No,” said an older woman standing beside them. “That was a blue costume. And it’s not Foresight. She doesn’t come down here much, and never by herself. Always got that Icon with her. They’re partners.”

“Like, _partners_ partners?” Mark asked, excited to be meeting a fellow hero enthusiast. “Because I always got a bit of a vibe from Icon…”

The older woman, Monica Tighe, gave him a wary look, but relaxed when she saw nothing judgemental on his face. “Icon’s with Captain Magic,” she said. “They released an official press statement about it.”

“A press statement because they’re _dating_?” Wanda asked. She was less invested in superheroes than her husband.

Monica shrugged. “Actors do. But that’s got nothing to do with this girl,” she added. “She’s a new one. Probably a student just coming to the city, but she’s good. I think she’ll do okay.”

“What are her powers?” Mark asked. He’d taken out a pen and started scribbling on the back of the pamphlet. Wanda sighed loudly.

“Seems like a touch of super strength,” Monica said. “The street heroes don’t usually want people to know the details of their powers. Too dangerous. But she’s, uh, Lady… something?”

“Sounds pretentious,” said Wanda.

Monica shrugged implacably. “The unofficial ones usually are, at least at first.”

“The vigilantes, you mean?” Wanda asked.

Monica’s expression darkened. “No,” she said. “Vigilantes are a whole other thing.” She gave the two tourists a suspicious look. “You don’t want to mess with those. But the new heroes, like this girl, they’re okay. The ones that survive, anyway.”

“They _die_?” Mark sounded horrified.

“Aw, no.” Monica laughed. “Just, they’re kids, you know. They get bored. Pick up a new hobby. Decide they don’t like how they look in those tights after all. Finish up school and go get regular jobs.” The whole crowd gasped, and she and the Jorgensens looked to the window in time to see the mysterious young hero throw a punch that sent one of the robbers skidding across the room. “But that one,” she said thoughtfully. “I think she’s got potential. Seems like she’s got everything under control.”

*****

Julia did not, in fact, have anything under control.

Okay, she’d taken out the first of the robbers, a short guy who barely seemed to know how to hold his gun, but that was mostly luck. She’d caught him off-guard when she’d finally shoved her way through the crowd to the bank’s door and found him dragging an injured employee behind the service desk. “Hey, hands off the civilian!” she’d yelled, in her full booming “hero voice” like Quentin had made her practice. The robber had been surprised, and Julia had made it across the room and managed to get in a lucky knee to his crotch, followed up by a fist to his nose that, thanks to her low-level super strength, sent him crashing, dazed, to the floor. His gun skittered out of his hand across the room as he covered his face and moaned. It was a very satisfying sound.

The problem was, she had no idea what she was supposed to do next.

The second bank robber was a woman, and she appeared more cautious. She circled Julia, keeping her distance, and behind her ski mask her eyes moved from Julia’s feet to her clenched fists, clearly waiting for any type of attack. She kept her gun ready, too, though she didn’t put her finger on the trigger or look like she really intended to shoot. Julia was almost disappointed. Not that she wanted to get shot, exactly, but the woman would have had a hell of a surprise if she’d tried it.

“Do you have superspeed?” one of the civilians against the far wall called out. “If you have superspeed, you can get her gun before she shoots you. Or us.”

“Obviously she doesn’t have superspeed,” countered one of the others. “If she did, she wouldn’t just be standing there.”

“Maybe she can teleport,” someone else suggested. “Like that chick Fayse.”

“Why would she be breaking up bank robberies if she had a cool power like that?”

Julia gritted her teeth. “Thanks for the advice, guys!” she called out. “Please stay back and let the professionals handle this.”

“You aren’t a professional,” someone muttered. “You don’t get paid.”

_After this, I should,_ Julia thought as she paced in a careful circle, looking for a weakness in her opponent’s stance. After all the money – her mother’s money, but still – she’d been pouring into martial arts classes since her powers kicked in when she was eight, not to mention the cost of a custom-designed costume, she deserved some compensation. At the very least the bank’s insurance company should cut her an anonymous check.

And maybe they would; Julia had no idea how this kind of thing worked. Today was only her fourth attempt to stop a crime, and the second one where citizens had seen her. Her name – she made a face thinking about it – was barely on the radar. Maybe once you were an established hero you got kick-backs.

Quentin would not approve of her thinking of money; it violated his strict moral standard for heroes. But then, Quentin thought she should be trying to get attention so she’d be recruited to Justice Quest. Julia had serious doubts about that plan. Her best friend aside, she didn’t play well with others.

“Alright, come on,” she muttered under her breath. She’d finally managed, with her circling, to get the robber turned around so her gun was pointing towards the one corner of the bank lobby without anyone in it. If she fired now, the only person she’d hit was Julia herself.

It was her best chance. Julia might have training, but it wasn’t really _attack_ training. Despite what comic books implied, money alone didn’t give you access to secret ninja masters who were willing to teach you how to take out armed enemies with your bare hands. But she did have her one advantage.

She took a deep breath, and charged.

*****

Sitting on the floor with the other bank patrons, Monica’s granddaughter Rosanne, who’d been making an ATM run before meeting her grandmother for coffee, had her own opinions on the new hero’s chances.

“Female heroes are the ones who last,” she expounded to her girlfriend, Dani, and to any other interested bank patrons whose afternoons had been interrupted and who were now sitting against the wall of the lobby in various states of excitement, irritation or boredom. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the hecklers. “Boy heroes, they flame out. First time a bad guy gets away, they go off in an angst spiral and give up. Girls have staying power.”

“This girl looks like someone could snap her in half,” said Dani. Rosanne tried not to get irritated, since Dani had reason to be annoyed. She was the student who’d asked for a note to get out of a lab session, and she hadn’t been kidding. This was the third robbery broken up by a hero she’d run into since the semester started, and if they didn’t get out of here by four, she was probably going to have to drop a class.

“Size doesn’t matter for heroes, you know that,” Rosanne said, patting her girlfriend’s hand.

“’Specially when they can fight.” The young man sitting on Rosanne’s other side was the one who’d protested the suggestion of teleportation. He had a tattoo on his right arm that looked suspiciously like Dragonkin’s symbol and was watching the fight playing out in front of them with eager eyes. “See that stance she’s in? That’s training.”

Rosanne nodded. The hero had taken out the first robber, the shorter man, with a spin-kick and a single punch and was now facing off against the woman. The guy was right, she clearly had some martial arts training.

“Maybe she’s from Justice Quest,” Dani suggested. “Slumming, you know?”

“Nah,” the tattooed man said. “It only goes the other way. Justice Quest sometimes recruits from the streets, but once they’re up there, they don’t come back down.”

“Oh, right, like what’s-his-name. Plant Lover. He was at NYU before he got called up, right?”

“_Ami des Plantes_,” the man corrected, importantly.

“Lover of Plants isn’t an improvement,” Dani said. “That’s _worse_. What, is he fu-”

“What’s this girl’s name again?” Rosanne interrupted, because the tattooed man was beginning to bristle and Rosanne knew nothing set Dani off like dumb superhero names.

“Lady… something? I saw it on the Hero Tracker blog.”

“Oh, god, Rosanne, someone besides you actually reads that thing.”

“Who cares what her name is?” Rosanne said, ignoring Dani’s swipe at her guilty pleasure blog. “This girl can throw a punch.”

Right at that moment, the hero lunged. The female robber raised her gun and Rosanne gasped, but instead of firing, she whipped it around and smashed it into the hero’s face. The girl staggered back, slamming into a desk by the door and sending a stack of deposit envelopes scattering in every direction. The crowd fell silent, holding their breath. And then –

“Well, she can certainly _take_ a punch,” Dani said, reluctantly admiring as the spandex-clad girl sprang to her feet and threw herself back into the fight.

Rosanne grinned. “Hell, yeah, she can.” She twisted around to look at the rest of the crowd. “Hey, anyone up for a bet on this fight?”

*****

It wasn’t the same as being shot, but getting pistol-whipped wasn’t any fun.

Julia’s plan had been to grab the female robber’s arm and wrestle the gun away from her when she charged. Her super-strength might not be on the level of some of the major heroes, but she had enough advantage over the average person that she’d won every arm-wrestling match she’d ever entered. The problem was that she wasn’t quick enough. Just as she was about to close her hands around the robber’s wrist, the woman’s arm snapped back and then across her face, and for several seconds, Julia saw nothing at all. Her vision blacked out, and by the time the pain kicked in, she was already face down on the ground with her ears ringing from the crash and no memory of how she got there. Her head felt like it had cracked open, there was blood on her face, and for a moment she was too preoccupied with trying not to throw up to worry about her opponent.

And then her power kicked in, and it was like her body went into reverse. The ache in her brain crested, the pressure building like her head would explode, and then it flooded outward. She could hear the crunch of her skull shifting, feel her skin crawl as the laceration on her head stitched back itself back together and the bruise faded away. Her stomach lurched again and she nearly passed out for the second time, her brain not able to accept that her body was changing so rapidly. Not for the first time, Julia thought that her power made healing from injuries worse than actually getting them.

But then, within seconds, she was fine. Her brain took a moment to catch up, and then she shoved off the ground and surged to her feet, adrenaline flooding through her limbs. Sometimes she thought that what others called super-strength was just this, the extra energy that ran through her body when her healing kicked in. She moved before the female robber could react, shooting forward to grab her arm and land a swift chop with her free hand on the woman’s wrist. The gun hit the ground and she kicked it away as the woman stared at her in shock.

“Let’s try this again,” Julia said, pulling out the hero voice once more, and swung her fist as the crowd of civilians cheered.

*****

“I’m just saying, when I started working in banks, this kind of thing didn’t happen every other week.”

“That’s because it was the Stone Age, Larry. They probably didn’t have guns back then.”

Larry Morelli, a customer service rep who specialized in mortgages, threw a weak glare at his co-worker, Maria Fuentes, who handled new accounts. They’d had this exchange a dozen times, in this exact spot huddled behind the service counter, during every robbery in their six years together at City National. “They didn’t have these damned heroes,” he countered. “It’s freaking 2012! Who the hell robs a bank in 2012? Aren’t they supposed to, you know…. Internet shit?” He waved a hand vaguely. “Hacking or whatever?”

“Jesus, you really are a relic,” Maria muttered. “This is a whole lot faster for them.”

“I’m telling you, the city pays for this,” Larry said, ignoring her. Maria thought her co-worker might be having problems with stress. He was sounding more paranoid with every robbery. “They send in some guys in masks to wave guns around, then the spandex-fetishists show up,” he nodded over the counter to where the young woman in blue tights and a mask now had the upper-hand with the female robber, “and it’s big bucks for the tourism industry. Look at those idiots outside taking pictures! I bet no one’s called the cops, even.”

“Heroes are faster than cops,” Maria said calmly. “Cops need to take statements. Heroes just solve the problem.”

“Betcha no one who gets citizen-arrested by a hero ever even serves time,” Larry went on. “They’re all on the Mayor’s payroll.”

“I like this one.” Larry and Maria both turned to the bank’s newest employee, twenty-two year old Kimmy Chen, who was still wide-eyed at her second hero intervention. “Did you hear her when she saw what happened to Todd? She yelled ‘stay away from the civilians!’ That’s pretty good.”

Maria thought the hero might have been less defensive of Todd if she realized that he’d tried to subdue everyone who’d robbed the bank for the last two years, with the same result each time. “How’s he doing?”

Kimmy shrugged, looking down at her fellow teller, who was sprawled on the ground holding an ice-pack from the employee fridge to his eye. “You okay, Todd?” He groaned. “Sounds fine.”

He probably would be, though they’d have the paramedics check him out if they showed up, Maria thought. Todd had been knocked out at the last three bank robberies. That kind of repeated blow to the head had to have some sort of cumulative effect.

Kimmy had already turned her attention back to the fight. “Her costume’s cute,” she said.

“It’s better than the usual,” Maria agreed, risking a cautious glance over the side of the counter. The girl’s navy costume was a cut above what most of the unofficial heroes managed, which was basically gym wear and a mask from Party Express. This looked professionally designed, even if it was still regular old spandex and not the fancy high-tech fibers Justice Quest had. “And her mask actually covers most of her face. Remember that boy who came in here two robberies ago, the one who just put makeup around his eyes? Bet everyone he’d ever met recognized him when he popped up on the news.”

“He wouldn’t stay off the news, was the problem,” Larry grumbled. “Kept shoving himself in front of the reporters.”

“Maybe this one will be smart enough to stay away from reporters,” Maria said doubtfully.

“She’s only been interviewed once,” Kimmy said. “It was a few weeks back, the guy who was attacking women outside that bar? She beat him up and dragged him to the closest police station and then tried to sneak off, but a reporter caught her outside and got her on film for a couple seconds. I mean, I’ve heard,” she added when her co-workers gave her amused looks.

“Oh, yeah?” Larry said. “What’s her name?”

“Lady, um… you couldn’t really hear it on the video. She kind of mumbled.”

“Huh.” Maria leaned back and closed her eyes, wondering if she could get a quick nap in. Her four-year old had been sick the night before and she’d barely gotten any sleep.

“How are you so relaxed?” Larry asked.

Maria shrugged. “We’re getting hazard pay.”

“We work at a bank,” Larry said, launching into the familiar rant. “Why the hell do we even _have_ hazard pay?”

*****

Julia slammed the female robber face down on the ground, planting a knee in the middle of her back. “You gonna stay down?” she growled, then immediately regretted it. She didn’t have the range for a proper growl. Switching over to the “hero voice” and hoping no one had heard her attempt at the other, she added, “Or do I need to hold you until the cops arrive?”

“I’m down, I’m down,” the woman said. Her voice was a little muffled thanks to the fat lip Julia had given her, but otherwise her injuries were minor. Julia was relieved. The superhero rulebook left leeway for causing major injuries while preventing loss of life, but that was a grey area she was uncomfortable straying into. Besides, she’d heard it came with tons of paperwork.

She eased up slowly from the female robber’s back, watching her carefully to see if she moved, but relaxing when she gave no sign of it. The adrenaline of the fight was fading, but Julia’s heart was pounding for an entirely different reason. She’d stopped an _actual bank robbery._ All by herself! She fought not to grin, because real heroes always looked cool and collected after their victories, but inside she was doing a little dance. Q would be so proud of her.

She started to turn to the civilians, thinking she should give a speech of some kind, let them know they were all safe and make sure someone finally called the cops to come pick up her prisoners, and that’s when it all went wrong.

Someone in the crowd yelled, “He’s getting up!” Someone else, maybe from behind the service counter, called out “the safe!” at the same moment. The second statement made no sense, and so Julia turned in that direction first, and by the time she realized the true threat, it was too late. The second robber, the one she’d thought was out of the game thanks to her well-aimed kick, was on his feet, hunched but moving, and before she could react, he’d retrieved his lost gun and had it pointed at her.

“Don’t you fucking move!” he screamed.

“Watch where you point that thing,” she snapped back, raising her hands to show that she was unarmed. “Let’s just calm down and talk about this.” She had no idea whether he’d seen her get hit and recover earlier, but it didn’t matter. The crowd was now behind her. If he started firing, there was no guarantee she could block the bullets with her own body.

“Stay there!” The robber glanced towards his female compatriot, still on the ground, then apparently gave her up for lost and began backing towards the far end of the lobby. _Emergency exit, _Julia thought. _Shit, why didn’t I think of that? _ She took a couple of steps after him, wondering if he would follow her lead if she tried to circle and get him pointed away from the civilians, the way she’d tricked his companion.

Unfortunately, this one was paying attention.

“Don’t move!” he yelled again, taking another step towards the hallway leading out of the lobby. Julia kept following, pacing slowly but moving closer and closer, trying to look like she was calm and in charge, and also not a threat, and definitely not panicking. If she could get close enough, she could tackle him and take the bullet herself. She was invulnerable, right? Okay, she’d never fully tested that, not with a gun, but she’d once survived a jump off a four story building and that had to be just as bad…

_Just don’t let any of them get shot, please don’t let them get shot, please don’t let that be my fault… _Why had she thought she was ready to take on a bank robbery, again?

She took another step closer, and the robber raised his gun. Julia’s muscles clenched as she got ready to jump.

The man threw the guns straight at her, then turned and fled.

She was so startled that she let out an undignified squawk and ducked before catching herself and straightening up. Hopefully no one had seen that, but seriously, who the hell threw a gun? She searched around frantically for the weapon, picking it up before she realized she had no idea how to make sure it wouldn’t fire. She spun around, holding it awkwardly. The other robber was still on the ground, her own gun only a few feet away. Julia looked before from it to the robber to the back hallway, mind spinning. Did she leave or stay or….?

“Aren’t you going to go after him?”

Julia stared at the young woman with the shock of green hair who’d made the comment in a bored tone. All the civilians were staring at her with expectation on their faces. A couple of bank employees had stood up from behind the service desk. Even the woman on the ground was watching like she was curious about what Julia was going to do.

Julia had always performed best under pressure.

“Right,” she said. “_Right_.” She shifted to her “hero voice.” “Okay, you two,” she pointed to the two largest men in the crowd. “You sit on her,” she pointed to the robber, “and make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. But, uh, be gentle. No bruises.” The rulebook was a little vague on whether she was responsible if someone else injured a criminal. “And, uh, you,” this to the green-haired girl, “you pick up the guns. Here, take this one. Don’t shoot anyone. And I will…go. To get the other guy. Oh, and someone call the cops!”

She bolted for the back of the bank before they could start criticizing her speech-making skills too.

The hallway led into a warren of corridors filled with tiny cubicle offices. Julia darted around them, following the sound of footsteps somewhere ahead. At the back of the corridor, she found two open doors, one leading out the street, the other with stairs presumably to a basement level. There was a woman with a name tag that read “Colleen” standing at the top of the stairs.

“They went that way!” the woman said, pointing to the exit.

_They? Oh, shit, there were two of them? _

“Stay here and make sure no one comes outside,” she said, and ran past the woman towards the alley.

Missing two out of three bad guys on her very first solo bank robbery job was a dismal record. And Julia never failed a test.


	2. The Vigilante

The alley was empty when she burst through the door, ready to fight. It was almost a disappointment to find herself alone.

Julia paused, irresolute as she took in the two directions the robbers could have gone. To her right, the alley ran about twenty feet and then opened onto the main street, where she could see the edges of the crowd gathered before the bank to watch her fight. Running that way would be dumb, so Julia took a guess and went left, cautiously making for the other end of the narrow passage. When she reached the edge of the last building, she pressed her back against it, did a quick run through in her head of her most effective striking moves, then rolled around the corner, coming up in a crouch with her fists raised.

She was in a courtyard. An empty one, with no obvious route of escape.

“Shit,” she muttered, standing. The robbers couldn’t have come this way. They must have gone out to the street.

“If they ripped their masks off….” She muttered to herself as she started back in that direction. She’d always thought best out loud. “Maybe no one would realize who they were. Black clothes aren’t that unusual in the city, even on a hot day. But I can’t do that, obviously, I’ll give up my identity, so…” It occurred to her that she was in the very alley where she’d left her clothes, so she started towards the dumpster. Maybe if she changed, she could chase down the robbers to their hideout and then… damnit, she was going to miss all her classes today.

“Looking for this?”

Julia spun around, heart racing. The voice, low-pitched but definitely female, had come from somewhere… above? _Fire escape, _she realized, her eyes landing on the rusty ladder against the wall of the building just behind the bank. She tilted her head back, shading her eyes against the afternoon sun as she stared up.

Her first, illogical thought was that the female robber had somehow escaped from the bank and come back around here to taunt her, but she quickly realized that the woman on the fire escape, though also dressed in dark clothes, was someone else. This new mystery figure was taller, for one thing, and she wasn’t wearing gloves or a mask, just a hoodie. She was crouched on the fire escape’s first landing, pressed back against the brick wall of the building, and Julia guessed that at night, this far from any streetlights and sitting so still, she’d have been invisible. At three-thirty on an October afternoon, she was, well, a woman in black with her hood pulled up despite the seventy degree weather.

“Uh, hi,” Julia called. “Have you seen two… people?” She realized she didn’t even have the gender of the third robber, the one who’d come up from the basement. “Uh, black clothes, masks, guns?” Remembering her role, she added, “They’re very dangerous. Don’t engage.”

“You mean those guys?” The woman pointed over Julia’s shoulder, back towards the alley.

Julia turned, confused, and paced a few feet into the alley. There wasn’t anyone here, unless… She stepped closer to the dumpster where she’d left her bag and peeked around back. Two figures were shoved in there, men slumped together with their arms awkwardly twisted behind them.

“What the hell?” She grabbed one of the men, who even with his mask she recognized as the guy she’d crotch-kicked. He was dead weight, clearly unconscious, as she dragged him out from behind the dumpster. “What happened to —?”

She lost her grip and the man fell face forward, revealing that his hands had been bound behind his back with electric cord.

Julia’s skin ran cold. The dark clothes, the fire escape, the tied-up unconscious criminals…

_Vigilante._

At _her_ bank robbery.

“You knocked them out?” She frantically dragged the other man out from behind the dumpster, then bent over to check that both men were breathing. They were, just unconscious, but that was bad enough. This was a flagrant violation of the rules.

“Well, it’s not like they consented to being tied up,” the woman behind her said. She laughed a little at her own joke.

“No, but I’m going to be in so much trouble.” Also, she realized now that the men were out of the way, the bag with her clothes was no longer behind the dumpster. She was going to have to evade the police _and_ somehow get home like this. “Couldn’t you have just let them go?”

“Relax.” The fire escape clanged, and Julia turned in time to see the woman - no, the _vigilante_ \- drop to the ground. She’d always thought of vigilantes as graceful and silent, running around on rooftops all night with no one hearing them, but this woman landed with a solid thud. “They had guns. That constitutes a threat to civilian life if they were about to run out into the street waving them. You’re covered.”

“That’s… actually true.” Though she and Q had debated with their superhero fan club back in high school whether the guns actually had to be pointing at someone. “You know the rules?”

The woman took a few steps closer. She was taller than Julia, fair-skinned beneath her hoodie, and most of what Julia could see of her face was her mouth quirked in a crooked grin. “Can’t break a rule until you know what it is.” Her low voice was full of teasing.

“The rules are important,” Julia said, folding her arms across her chest. “They’re the only way that heroes can exist in a civil society with laws and democracy and…”

“Important to _you_,” the woman corrected. “And you are…” She raised a wallet in her right hand and flipped it open. “Julia Wicker, Columbia University, class of 2016. Cute picture.”

“You stole my bag!” Lots of conspiracy sites said vigilantes were thieves, but Julia had always defended them.

Had she said_ cute_ picture?

“Would you calm down? I _retrieved_ your bag from behind a dumpster. Not really a safe place to leave valuables, you know. Or evidence of your identity.” She swung Julia’s leather messenger bag off her shoulder, slipped the wallet back in, and tossed it over. Julia caught it clumsily. “Think of it as me doing my civic duty to help out a fellow citizen.” Her tone was something very close to Julia’s “hero voice,” and Julia was distinctly aware that she was being mocked. She _hated_ that.

“If you’re going to do this kind of thing, you need to get better at the details,” the woman went on in her own voice. “Check for exits before you start a fight. Know how many opponents you’re going up against, how many weapons they have, what their weaknesses are if possible. What kind of damage you can afford to take and what you can’t.” She narrowed her eyes in an assessing look. “In your case, it seems to be a lot.”

Julia’s jaw tightened. It was rude to talk about someone else’s powers when you weren’t willing to share your own. At least, that’s what she’d picked up from reading blogs; it wasn’t like she’d ever met another powered person in real life besides Quentin. And how did -

“You were watching me fight!” she accused the other woman.

The vigilante smirked again. “I liked when you kicked that one guy in the nuts. Not elegant, but very efficient.”

“I - “ Julia was glad Quentin had talked her into a mask that covered most of her face, because she did not need this arrogant woman to see that she was blushing. “You could have helped.” The woman pointed wordlessly to the two unconscious, tied-up robbers, and Julia rolled her eyes. “Helped before now.”

“Nah.” She shrugged. “It’s too early in the day for me. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

It was practically the end of the day, but Julia supposed vigilantes were nocturnal. “So, what, this is your morning routine? You just hang around in alleys waiting for heroes to make mistakes so you can mock them?”

“I was just here to get some cash. Besides, up until the end, you seemed to have a handle on it. I wanted to see what you would do.”

“Why?”

“Curious.” The vigilante seemed to stare at her for a long time, though Julia couldn’t quite see her eyes, and then she grinned. “Maybe I want to recruit you to my side.”

Julia snorted. “Right. I don’t think so. I’m not a vigilante. I’m a responsible member of society.”

“Oh, well, then…” The woman held up her hands, mock-surrendering. “Wouldn’t want to interfere with that.” There was a trace of bitterness to her tone that made Julia frown, because she hadn’t meant to be rude, but it was just -

She was a _hero_. She helped people; or, she was trying, anyway. And vigilantes, they were something else. The two didn’t mix.

Weren’t supposed to mix, anyway.

Not even if the vigilantes had nice voices and thought Julia was cute.

The woman turned to leave. “Watch that ID,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t get caught.”

“Wait,” Julia called. The woman paused, turning with an expectant air. “Can I - you helped me. Can I pay you back somehow?” Even without seeing her face, she could tell the vigilante was giving her an incredulous look. “I don’t like owing people.” And she didn’t like mysteries, not unless she was going to get the chance to solve them.

“Send me a thank you card.”

“I’d need to know your name for that.” Julia was a little startled by her own boldness. “And it only seems fair. You know mine.”

“Your own fault,” the woman said, and reached for the first rung of the fire escape.

She should probably have just let the vigilante go and gotten back to her own problems, but Julia didn’t put up with being dismissed well. She darted forward, reaching up as the woman started to climb, and grabbed the back of her hoodie, pulling her down. The woman stumbled, and when she spun around, furious or just surprised, her hood had fallen back, dark curly hair spilling out, and -

Huh.

Julia had an image of vigilantes in her mind. They were mostly older, grizzled types with, like, scars or missing fingers from their battles with villains in the night. Some of them had deformities from their powers. They didn’t talk about what they could do, and no one knew what their powers actually were, but they were grim and dangerous.

This woman, on the other hand, wasn’t much older than Julia herself. She had bright green eyes, heavy eyeliner, and a nose-ring, and she was…

Well, Julia couldn’t see much reason for someone like this to hide her face.

She took a step back, suddenly self-conscious as the woman glared at her. “Like I said, just trying to keep things fair,” she said. “You’ve seen my ID. Seemed like I should get to see you, too.”

The woman’s face remained furious for another moment, and then her whole posture changed. She shifted, cocking a hip and folding her arms as she ran her eyes over Julia. “Yeah? Get a good look?”

Her eyes slid down from Julia’s face to her costume, and Julia was suddenly very aware of how little it left to the imagination.

“No,” she said, flushing but refusing to let this _vigilante_ embarrass her. “Your hoodie covers too much.”

The woman gave a startled laugh and a wide grin. It made her even more attractive, which didn’t seem fair. The smile faded slowly into curiosity. “Okay,” she said finally. “I’m Kady.”

“That a hero name?”

“No,” Kady said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t do that spandex shit. It’s just my name.”

“Last name?”

“Come on, you know better.”

“You have mine,” Julia insisted, though she guessed this was probably a lost cause. Vigilantes were criminals, they didn’t give out their names to people who had regular contact with the cops.

Julia should probably be trying to arrest her or something. Not flirting with her in an alley.

Not that she was flirting. Kady was the one giving suggestive once-overs. This was a purely one-sided flirt.

Kady just shook her head, but she didn’t make to leave, either. She just stood there, studying Julia. “Take off the mask and I’ll think about it,” she said finally.

“What? But you’ve already seen my face, on my ID.”

“That wasn’t a good picture. I want to see the real thing.”

Julia hesitated, but Kady had seen her address. Her face hardly mattered at this point. She reached up and slipped the mask off, smoothing back her hair and hoping her makeup hadn’t smudged too much during the fight.

Kady smiled. “Much better,” she said, and Julia was sure this time the blushing showed.

“Well?” she asked.

Kady held her eyes for a minute, then shrugged. “Okay. Bye.”

“But you promised!”

“No, I didn’t.” Kady had already scrambled up to the first landing. She wasn’t graceful, but she did seem to move a little faster than was normal. She crouched, turning back. “But maybe I’ll see you around, huh?”

“Okay, how do I find you?”

Kady had started to climb again, but she looked back now. “You actually want to?” She sounded surprised, and for the first time not like she was making fun of Julia.

“I - I guess?” It didn’t really make sense. Vigilantes and Heroes weren’t enemies, exactly, but they didn’t hang out together, either. What was she going to do, invite Kady over for beers and a movie?

The thought of sitting in a dark space in close proximity with her was distracting, to say the least.

“Why?” Kady turned and looked down at her. The height made her look even more intimidating, and there was a weight of challenge in her eyes.

“I told you, I owe you,” Julia said. “I could, I don’t know, back you up some time - “

“I don’t think so.”

Okay, fine, that had been a long shot, and even if this vigilante was intriguing, it wasn’t like Julia was really going to take up brawling in alleys. “I don’t know other people with powers,” she said, resorting to the truth. “Well, one, but he’s… his powers aren’t like mine.”

“You don’t know that mine are, either.”

Julia shrugged. “You fought off two bank robbers and got them tied up.”

“Maybe I’m just a badass.”

“Maybe. But maybe you would want to practice? Or something?”

She felt like an idiot. Obviously this confident vigilante didn’t want to hang out with a newbie hero who couldn’t even stop one bank robbery.

Kady gave that crooked smile again. It was even more suggestive when you could see her whole face. “Are you looking for a sparring partner?”

“No,” Julia said, to both the actual question and the suggestion beneath it, then paused. “Maybe.”

Again, Kady looked surprised. She shifted, staring over Julia’s shoulder, then nodded slowly. “Okay. But I’m not giving you my name. Or my number.”

“Then how do I find you?”

She laughed. It was a nice laugh, low and a little rough like her voice. “You don’t. I’ll find you.” She stood up, reaching for the ladder above her head. “You make enough noise. You aren’t hard to find.” She scrambled up the ladder onto the roof of the building and paused again. “What’s your hero name, anyway? In case I want to follow your exploits?”

Julia sighed. “It’s, uh… Lady Strike.”

“Lady… Strike?” It was amazing that you could hear the amusement in her voice from so far away.

“Yeah, ‘cause I… strike… Look, it was a drunken joke with my best friend that got out of hand. We were trying to come up with hero names, and we were smoking cigarettes we stole from his mom - “

“You named yourself after the cigarettes?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” Kady shook her head. “Be seeing you, Lucky.”

Though Julia held up a hand to shade her eyes, she couldn’t see where Kady went.

For a second, she was tempted to run after her and find out just what “sparring” entailed, but there were two bank robbers at her feet, another inside, and the wail of sirens approaching fast. Julia sighed, and turned back to her responsibilities.

“Well,” she said to the two robbers. “Let’s go explain… all this.”

*****

It was after five by the time Julia escaped the police and made her way back to the apartment she shared with Quentin. The off-campus apartment was a splurge their parents had agreed on when they started at Columbia, because Julia had convinced them that it was easier to hide their powers if they didn’t have strangers living practically on top of them in the dorms. Not that there was anything illegal about having powers, and there were laws in place to protect students who did, but if Julia was going to be a superhero, it was pretty important that no one associate Lady Strike’s powers with college student Julia Wicker. And as much as Q thought she should be trying for a spot with Justice Quest, everyone - that was, Julia, and, in a rare display of unity, both Coldwater parents - agreed that no one needed to know what Quentin could do.

The lights were off in the combined kitchen/living room space when Julia unlocked the door. “Q?” she called, dumping her bag and kicking off her shoes. “You home?”

“Back here,” her roommate called from the direction of his bedroom.

Julia made her way through the apartment, pausing to pick up a few stray dishes and dump them in the sink. Quentin’s bedroom was at the end of the hall, on the opposite side of the apartment from hers. She stuck her head in the half-open door, noticing that the lights were out here, too. The only illumination was from the glow of Quentin’s computer screen.

“Dude, you know the sun’s going down, right?” she asked.

She could barely see Q, sprawled on his bed with the computer on his lap, but she heard him stir. “What - oh, sorry. Lost track of time.” There was a click, and the light beside his bed came on. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Julia stepped fully into the room, looking around. Like her own room, and the whole apartment if she was being honest, Quentin’s bedroom was full of superhero memorabilia, but while Julia mixed up her posters of Fayse and Dragonkin with her favorite bands and a few black-and-white photographs, Quentin’s room looked like a superhero museum. Action figures cluttered the shelves, packed in among his extensive comic book collection; the walls were completely hidden under images of his favorite heroes. A Lego replica of Justice Quest’s dirigible hung from the ceiling, so she had to duck slightly to make it into the room. Across from his bed was his prize possession, a full-sized framed poster of the team’s latest roster, taken just after Foresight and Icon joined three months ago and signed by all the team members.

Other than superhero stuff, Quentin’s room was kind of a mess. The bed beneath his sprawled legs was unmade; there was a stack of dirty dishes on the floor and books spread haphazardly across the desk. And, she noticed, Quentin’s hair was a tangled mess and he was still wearing the pajama pants he’d had on when she left that morning.

“Q, did you go to any classes today?” she asked suspiciously.

“I only had one.”

“Uh-huh. And did you attend?”

“We get three skips. I’m thinking of dropping the class, anyway. I don’t think I’m cut out for a poetry elective. I don’t even like poetry.”

Julia tilted her head, noticing that he was keeping his eyes on the computer. “Q…”

“Jules.” He finally looked up at her. “Stop. I’m fine.”

Julia bit her lip. She didn’t like to nag Quentin; managing his depression was his own business, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing it for years. She glanced at his bedside table, checking that the little orange pill bottles with his meds were still there, and decided to let it go. She’d get after him if he tried to skip tomorrow.

“So what did you do with yourself all day, since you weren’t in class?” she asked.

“Tracked my best friend across the internet.”

“What?”

Quentin flashed a mischievous grin. “Come on, Lady Strike, did you really think your exploits went unnoticed?” he asked in the heavy fake English accent of Martin Chatwin, the arch-villain on their favorite TV show, Team Whitespire. Then he switched back to his regular voice as he turned his computer so she could see the screen. “Looks like I’m not the only one who skipped class.”

Displayed on the screen was a picture of her, in her costume and mask, in the middle of the bank robbery. It was a slightly blurry shot, probably because it had been taken through the window, but it was still a good picture. It was from the moment right after she’d subdued the female robber, and Julia got a little thrill taking in her own confident stance. She looked like a real hero.

Then she noticed the layout of the webpage around the image. “Wait, is that Hero Tracker?”

Quentin nodded, eyes shining. “Big leagues, Jules.”

“Holy shit.” She crossed the room and sat down beside him, pulling the computer closer so she could get a better look. Hero Tracker was the number one site for superhero-related news and statistics. Almost all their major coverage was of the big hero teams from various cities, but because they were New York-based, they sometimes did features on local street-level heroes too. Julia had almost died of excitement a few weeks earlier when a single line in one article was devoted to her fight against that creep she’d run into outside a bar. But this was a whole article, with her picture and everything.

_A Lady Strikes at City National! _

Julia made a face. She kept the name because it had been Quentin’s idea, if a drunken one, and he’d come up with it the night they’d hung out on her mother’s rooftop deck after he’d been released from the hospital for the second time. It had been a good night, a rare happy one that summer, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and the good memory, by changing it. But maybe she ought to consider it.

Luckily, Quentin didn’t notice her reaction. He pulled the computer back and began scrolling through the article. “They got all the details,” he said. “Someone in the bank must have talked to the Tracker.”

No one knew who actually wrote the Hero Tracker blog; his, or her, secret identity was more closely guarded than that of most heroes. “There were a lot of people at the bank,” she said. “It could have been anyone. Did they mention that right after that moment, I screwed up, got a gun thrown at me, and almost lost two of the bad guys?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they rated you a 4 out of 10 for efficiency and a 6 for skill, but 8 out of 10 for style. Not bad for a first effort. I told you the full mask was a good idea. They loved it.”

“Your ideas are always good.” _Except when it comes to names. _ She stretched out on the bed beside him, lying back on his pillows.

“They also said you got smashed in the head with one of the guns.”

Julia looked up at the side of his face. He was focused on the computer again, but she recognized the tone of his voice. “And I bounced back,” she said. “Like I always do.”

“Hmm.” Quentin turned and looked down at her, reaching out to brush her hair back. She started at his touch - they were touchy-feely friends, but not like that - before she realized he was reaching for the spot where the gun had bashed her skull. She let him probe gently for several minutes. There was no pain left at the spot, but her skin tingled faintly under his touch anyway.

“Nothing to heal,” she said finally.

“No,” he agreed. “There never is.” That same tone was still there. “Too bad.”

“Too bad I didn’t get a fractured skull?” Julia asked dryly. “Thanks.”

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re okay, obviously. Just…” He shook his head. “Just me being dumb, like usual.”

She sighed. “It’s not dumb to want to help people.”

“It is when they don’t need help.”

_Most people could use your help_, she should have been able to say. Probably every hero or vigilante out there would love to have a best friend who could take away their injuries with a touch. But Quentin the touch-healer got stuck with the girl who couldn’t be hurt.

And that was probably why he was still alive. Quentin’s gift was a two-edged sword, healing other people’s injuries by taking a lesser form of them into himself, and he had the kind of brain that made him very reckless about how he used it.

She tugged at his arm. “Hey, sidekick.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy look. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You don’t even let me come to your fights.”

“There was no time. And no one was hurt, so you wouldn’t have had anything to do.” She winced inside, knowing she wouldn’t have called him even if there had been injuries. Especially not then.

Something must have shown on her face, because he shook his head. “You don’t like my power.”

“I don’t like that it hurts you as much as it helps everyone else.”

He shrugged. “You’re going to get recruited to join a real hero team now, and I’m - “

“I’m not going anywhere. You know I don’t like to play on teams.”

“Like you’d turn down Justice Quest.”

“I might.” Julia stared across the room at the poster facing the bed, all the brightly-clad heroes with their hands on their hips and their logos splayed across their chests. Icon, a newer recruit and Quentin’s favorite, had electricity sparking off his fingers, and his partner, Foresight, had glowing purple eyes. Even Ami des Plantes looked cool in his green high-gloss cape. There was Dragonkin, with her scaled skin, Fayse captured half-invisible as she started to teleport, blue-haired Fracture and smirking Smoke and their leader, Captain Magic. “I always thought Captain Magic looked like an ass,” she said. “I don’t think I want him to be my boss.”

Quentin rolled his eyes. “Everyone loves Captain Magic. Especially Icon.”

“Wow, catty.” She grinned. “Are you seriously mad that your crush-from-afar has a boyfriend?”

“Maybe a little,” he said, but he was laughing at himself, too.

Julia tugged him down to lie beside her so they were both looking up at the ceiling. At the start of the semester, she’d bought him a life-sized poster of Icon, the only one she could find for a lesser-known hero, and it stared down at them, all intense eyes and long limbs in a tight red costume. “I can’t believe you put him over your bed.”

“Like that’s not what you bought it for. So I can fantasize.”

“Ew. Please don’t ever talk about fantasizing when I’m lying right next to you.’

Icon’s eyes were green, and he wore makeup to enhance them. The sight reminded her of another pair of green eyes. “I think if I was going to team up with anyone, it would be a vigilante,” she said.

“Uh, what?” Quentin pushed up on an elbow so he could stare down at her in horror. “A vigilante? In flagrant violation of the rules?” He said it like she’d suddenly announced her plans to become a serial killer.

“I wouldn’t break the rules. Just, you know… play around a little. Think about it. Vigilantes know all the bad guys, right? Because they’re kind of morally grey. I bet if I made contact with one of them and exchanged information, I could stop all kinds of crimes faster.”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

She sighed. “I met someone. Today, at the bank.”

“Someone… a vigilante? Seriously?” His eyes widened, intrigued and horrified all at once.

“She helped me out, catching the guys who ran. And she was nice - well, nice might not be the word, but you know. She gave me advice. She seemed pretty cool.”

“A _vigilante_?”

“Could you stop saying ‘vigilante’ like it’s ‘murderer’?”

“It might be.” He sounded like he could barely understand what she was saying, so shaken by this disturbance of the line between black and white hats.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Not this one.”

“You liked her,” he accused.

“Maybe.”

“Wait.” HIs eyes narrowed. “You _like_ liked her.” Julia opened her mouth, then shut it, blushing. “Hah!” All Quentin’s reservations disappeared; he flopped back down beside her and propped his chin on his hand, ready for gossip. “Was she cute?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a yes. A hero and a sexy vigilante.”

“I didn’t say she was sexy.” Though,_ hell yeah_. “And hey, why isn’t it a sexy hero and a vigilante?”

“Fine, I’m sure you’re both very sexy. So tell me more. What are her powers?”

“No idea.”

“What’s her name?”

She hesitated for a second, but she’d never kept any secrets from Quentin. “Kady.”

“Hmm. Never heard of it, but the blogs that follow vigilantes never have as much information as Hero Tracker. Those guys are seriously good at keeping their identities secret.”

“That’s ‘cause they only come out at night.”

“Well, that works out. Late night rooftop meetings, kissing in dark alleys…” He ducked as she tossed a pillow at him.

“Shut up.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Julia fought an embarrassed grin, remembering Kady’s goodbye. “She said she’d be looking out for me.”

“Ooh, an admirer.”

“Nah, she probably just wants to criticize my technique some more.”

“Still. That’s pretty cool.” He rolled over onto his back, also looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe you broke up a bank robbery and met someone on the same day,” he said, clearly envious.

Julia had nothing to say to that. It had been a pretty awesome day.

They lay there for a few minutes, and then she said, “Even if I did join Justice Quest, it would only be if I could take my sidekick with me.”

“Oh?” His voice was lighter than before, so she knew his mood had passed. Teasing her always cheered him up. “And what good is a sidekick who can heal to a girl who doesn’t need it?”

“You wouldn’t be healing. I’d want you to use your other power.”

“Translocation is barely a power. It’s useless. At least the way I do it.”

“Nope. ‘Cause after a long day of hero work, what I need is a sidekick who’s gonna get me a nice cold drink.”

“Seriously?” He sat up and gave her a look, but she just raised her eyebrows and waited. After a moment, he rolled his eyes and extended one hand. With a flick of his fingers, a can of Diet Coke appeared. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” Julia took a sip and flashed him a grin. “Best sidekick ever.”

“Hmm.” Quentin lay back down beside her. “Until you leave me for a sexy vigilante.”

“Shut up.”


End file.
